Get It Right
by bookworm42x
Summary: Lola Creevey has practically grown up an orphan, due to her father's insanity ever since her mother's death. Follow her as she goes through life, dealing with Dark wizards, homework, and Harry Potter's middle child, Albus. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Receiving a Letter

"You've been in there too long. Come on, dear, it's time to come out—we're going to visit your father."

"No."

"I'll blast down the door."

"No, you won't. That'd be awfully expensive to repair."

"Please come out, Lola. He'll want to see you."

A small, skinny girl with a lot of messy fair hair opened the door. "Yeah. Right."

"Let's go, love." The kind, matronly woman tucked her wand back in the folds of her robes and offered her hand to Lola. They climbed into the fireplace by the window together, and with a flash of green fire, they disappeared.

They reappeared in another fireplace, this one of cold, white marble, just like everything around it. There was no warmth in the building, and the two newcomers certainly had no place among the white-clad Healers bustling over their carts and papers, with their colorful robes and actual emotions.

"Pomfrey, I hate this place," Lola declared, not bothering to keep her voice down.

"Shh. The ward is this way."

There was a Healer there waiting for them. "Good to see you again, Mrs. Pomfrey, Miss Creevey. Mr. Creevey will be with you in just a minute."

"Will he?" Lola said coldly. The Healer looked rather taken aback for a moment. Then she laughed, a hard, barking sound that contained no mirth whatsoever.

"Of course he will, Miss Creevey."

"You needn't call me that. Lola will do just fine."

"That was rude, Lola!"Mrs. Pomfrey exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Healer Spavin, she's in a bad way today."

"That's perfectly all right," said Healer Spavin listlessly. _She always is in a bad way, _thought the Healer. "One moment, please."

When she came out, she was escorting a man. He was too young to be called middle-aged, but he no longer had the alive look of youth. He was leaning on the Healer, and his fair hair was thinning.

"Hello, Mr. Creevey," Mrs. Pomfrey said softly. "Lola...greet your father, love. Go on."

"Hullo, Pop," Lola muttered, her eyes firmly fixed on her trainers.

Mr. Creevey didn't reply. He only looked at the wall.

"Well, this was a wonderful visit," Mrs. Pomfrey said with an air of false cheer. "Until next week, Mr. Creevey."

Healer Spavin looked as though she was deeply struggling to refrain from rolling her eyes. She led Mr. Creevey back into the ward, and Mrs. Pomfrey and Lola headed back to the fireplace they Flooed in.

"Why do we even bother going?" Lola grumbled as they brush ash off of their fronts.

"Because he's your father, love," Mrs. Pomfrey said simply.

"Why can't we visit Mum instead?"

"I— your mother isn't—"

"I know she's not _alive,_" Lola said, waving this off as though it didn't matter. "Gee whiz, Pomfrey, give me some credit. Just because I'm young doesn't mean I'm daft."

"Don't be dramatic, darling, you know I wasn't insinuating anything of the kind." Mrs. Pomfrey pulled out a mug. "Hot chocolate?"

"Yes."

"Yes, _please._"

"I don't have to say 'please.' You offered it."

"All the same..." Mrs. Pomfrey murmured, flicking her wand to heat the milk. "Go fetch the mail, would you, Lola? I'm expecting a letter from that Zeller woman up at the school on how things are going in the hospital wing."

"I shan't do it if you don't say please," Lola said obnoxiously.

"Fine, you insolent little girl," Mrs. Pomfrey replied, an amused note in her voice. "_Please_?"

"Well...I suppose I could." Lola hopped off of her kitchen stool. A moment later there was a shout, and she scurried back into the room, clutching a letter.

"Pomfrey! Pomfrey, I've a letter—really! For me! It has my name on it, and everything! Ooh...this is so very fancy. It's written in green ink. I didn't know you could have coloured ink—would you get me some for my birthday? Look at it!" Lola brandished the letter in Mrs. Pomfrey's face. "_Miss Lola Creevey, The Bedroom on the Left, Number 144, 38__th__ Street..._Gee whiz! I wonder who's writing to me! Open it, Pomfrey—please! My hands are shaking." The bitter girl from the hospital vanished, replaced by an excited child.

"Would you like me to read it?"  
"Yes—Yes, I would."

"_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_."

"Hogwarts? Is that the school?"

"Yes. Might I continue?"

"Please," said Lola, her brown eyes alight with curiosity.

"Very well. _Headmaster: Stewart Ackerley, Order of Merlin, Second Class. _

_Dear Miss Creevey, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl_—"

"I don't have an owl."

"Yes, dear, but I do."

"I know _that_—but they asked for _my _owl, didn't they?"

"It doesn't matter whose owl it is. They just want confirmation that you can attend."

"Oh."

"And if you keep interrupting like that, it'll take days to finish the letter—and don't you want to hear it all now?"

"Sorry, Pomfrey. Go on...please."

"_We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Deputy Headmaster_," Mrs. Pomfrey finished. "That's exciting, isn't it, Lola? Your first Hogwarts letter. I should have it framed."

"Don't make such a fuss about it," Lola said, yawning and pushing her empty hot chocolate mug across the counter. "Loads of kids get them...I suppose it _is _terribly thrilling, though. I just hope Doris doesn't get hers."

"Doris is a Muggle, she won't receive one."

"Good. I hate Doris."

"Don't say that word."

"What? Hate? But I _do _hate her, Pomfrey. It's not a bad word, is it? I use it an awful lot."

"I've noticed."

"It's not like the 'M' word."

"No," Mrs. Pomfrey agreed, "it's not quite as bad. But still, darling, nobody will want to be around you if you're so bad-tempered that you throw around the word 'hate.'"

"Good. I don't want anyone to be around me."

"You're very antisocial, Lola."

"I guess I am, aren't I?" Lola replied absentmindedly. "That's too bad. Mum was a big social butterfly, according to Doris's grandmother. I should have liked to be like Mum."

"You are, dear."

"Hm. Maybe I am—maybe I'm not. We'll see, won't we? Now, when are we going to go shop for all my magic things? I'm dreadfully excited to get a wand. Then I'll be able to give Doris boils."


	2. Diagon Alley

Harold Flourish was sorting his Knuts from his Sickles—the incompetent cashier clearly did not know the difference between the two—when a loud rumbling came from his fireplace.

Mr. Flourish ignored this. Customers often used the Flourish and Blotts fireplace to Floo into Diagon Alley, and although the disturbance bothered him, he had quickly learned not to yell at the culprits for causing it. Yelling scared them off, and scared people didn't buy many books.

The first incomer was a kind-looking, middle-aged woman with suspiciously jet-black hair and eyes that twinkled at everything they saw. The second was a child—one of those damned eleven-year-olds, Mr. Flourish noticed, his heart sinking. Well, of course she was eleven. Children _under _eleven never came into the bookshop because they simply couldn't be bothered with books. They were too busy causing trouble for their relatives—this was perfectly fine with Mr. Flourish, of course, because they weren't causing trouble for _him._ Eleven was the fatal age when one was forced to enter a bookshop to buy one's school books. There were a lot of eleven-year-olds this year, he noted. They were bad for business. They ran around and shouted and tried to make forts in the back room. Why, one of them had even sunk his teeth into an extremely rare copy of _Hairy Nose, Human Heart_! The nerve!

This particular monster was very small and very scrawny, with bright eyes. She looked up at Mr. Flourish disdainfully.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to ask me if I need any help finding anything? Oh, and you have a tomato stain on your front."

Mr. Flourish looked down at his clean, pressed uniform robes, and saw that the child was right. He swore. After a moment, he looked up, a wide, fake smile on his face.

"Do you need any help finding anything, miss?"

"No, I don't," she said in a dignified voice. With that, she took the hand of the elder woman (who did not look quite as kind-looking now) and marched off to where the _Standard Book of Spells _sets were showcased.

Mr. Flourish swore again, then stormed off to the back room to complain to Mr. Blotts about eleven-year-olds.

* * *

"You were quite rude to him, Lola," chuckled Mrs. Pomfrey as they strolled through the alley laden with shopping bags—or, rather, Mrs. Pomfrey was laden with shopping bags, and Lola was peeking into whatever store was nearby. "It was uncalled for, mean, and _very _funny."

"Does that mean you approve?" Lola smirked.

"What? No! No, no, no," said Mrs. Pomfrey hastily. "No, I do not approve. And if I get any word that you've been doing that to people at Hogwarts, you will be in big trouble, young lady."

"Yeah, yeah," Lola muttered. "Look at _them._" She pointed to a group of teenagers in bright robes _ooh_-ing and _aah_-ing over the latest broomstick, and wrinkled her nose. "Quidditch is so stupid, Pomfrey."

"Too right it is," said Mrs. Pomfrey. "And dangerous, too. It's good you don't like Quidditch."

"Isn't it? What's next? I've ticked off my uniforms, my books, my cauldron, my telescope, my scales, and my phials—is there anything else, besides the wand?" Lola looked very hopeful.

"Well, it says you're permitted to have an owl, a cat, or a toad."

"Oh, I don't need an owl, we're allowed to borrow the school ones, aren't we? And toads are naff. Can I have a cat, Pomfrey? Please?"

"Maybe," said Mrs. Pomfrey hesitatingly—cats were expensive. "We'll go by Eeylops after we buy your wand and see if there's any other pet you like, sound good?"

"Oh, I'm dead set on a cat, but yes, I suppose."

"All right, that's settled then. You go get your wand, and I'll buy you some nice quills and parchment, the stuff they give out at the school is rubbish, I'm afraid. And getting one's wand is really something one should do alone, don't you think? Pip pip, Ollivander's is that way!"

Lola grinned, and set off at a skipping pace towards the wandmaker's shop. This seemed to bother the shoppers jostling her as they hurried towards their destination, so she slowed down, not wanting to call attention to herself.

_Gee whiz, _Lola thought, _Ollivander's a right geezer! _This was a rather crude way of putting it, but she was right. Ollivander's white hair was falling out, he was more wrinkled than a gnome, and when he smiled, he showed off a lot of cracked, yellow teeth.

"Miss Creevey, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ye-e-es, I remember your parents." He closed his eyes. "Your father: nine and a half inches, cedar, and phoenix feather. Unbending. Your mother: fourteen inches precisely, hazel, one of the last unicorn hair wands I made. Surprisingly swishy—good for Transfiguration. She was an exceptional witch, wasn't she?"

"Yes, sir," Lola repeated.

"I was quite sorry to hear of her death."

She was silent.

"You must excuse me, dear girl, that was insensitive. Now, how about we get to the exciting stuff—try some wands, eh?"

"Yes!" Lola exclaimed. "Please," she added sheepishly. Ollivander seemed not to notice her awkwardness, however, as he was busy prising a box out of a drawer. He opened it, and gave the wand inside to her.

"Go on. Try it out."

She waved it enthusiastically, expecting excellent results. A mirror on the wall shattered and fell to the floor. "Was that good?" Lola asked.

Ollivander hesitated before answering. "Er—maybe we'll try another one."

* * *

Half an hour later, Lola decided that getting a wand was not all that it was cut out to be. She had tried _dozens _of wands, and according to Ollivander, none of them were 'just right.'

"I don't give a rat's arse," she growled finally, abandoning all the manners Mrs. Pomfrey had taught her, "if the wand's 'just right!' I just want it to _function, _you know, do magic! Can't you just give me some random one so I can give you my seven Galleons and go get my cat?"

Ollivander, however, was not discouraged by this outburst. "Now, now, Miss Creevey," he said smoothly, pulling out yet _another _box, "patience is a virtue, you know. Try this one."

Furious, Lola snatched the wand, pointed it at the ceiling, and brought her arm down. Hard.

Suddenly, she felt a warm, tingling sensation float up her arm, and silver sparks shot out of the wand like fireworks. Ollivander clapped his wizened hands.

"Well done! Yes, very well done. That's twelve and three-quarter inches, redwood, and dragon heartstring. Slightly springy. That'll be seven Galleons, Miss Creevey."

Lola gratefully slid the gold across the desk and got out of the wand shop as fast as her feet would take her, clutching her wand in her left hand.

* * *

"You got it, then?" Mrs. Pomfrey said. "Excellent! Now, give it to me so I can put it in my purse."

Lola's grip tightened on the wand. "Why?"

"It'll be safer that way," she explained. "And besides, it's not like you can do anything with it now, you haven't learned any magic yet!"

"I suppose," Lola grumbled, handing over her precious wand. "Let's go buy a cat!"

"Only if you don't like anything else, dear," said Mrs. Pomfrey hastily. "_Only _then."

When they reached Eeylops Owl Emporium, Lola immediately ran off to see where the cats would be, while Mrs. Pomfrey admired the jobberknolls.

There weren't many animals she liked. Toads caused skin afflictions, owls bit your fingers, and kneazles were unnaturally aggressive. But jobberknolls were sweet, puffy birds that cuddled against your cheek and never made any obnoxious noises, and Mrs. Pomfrey had a fondness for them.

"Excuse me, miss," she said, trying to get a hold of a curly-haired salesgirl, "could you tell me how much—? Excuse me!"

The salesgirl was weaving through the throng of chattering shoppers as if she had not heard Mrs. Pomfrey. Finally, she stopped, and tapped another girl in violet uniform robes on the shoulders.

"Oi, Gladys, when was that shipment of Owl Treats supposed to come in?"

"Yesterday," chirped the salesgirl named Gladys.

"Damn them, they're late _again, _Mr. Mulpepper won't be happy about this..." She continued muttering to herself as she walked away. Mrs. Pomfrey huffed, and tried to contact Gladys instead.

"Ex-_cuse _me..."

But she was deep in conversation with none other than Lola. Lola was gazing at a cage full of tiny black pixies. The pixies were squealing among themselves excitedly and pointing at her.

"Most mischievous creatures we've ever sold here, but they're dead useful, they'll bite off a corner of your enemy's ear if you like, and they can send letters if it's not too heavy. And we've placed a special charm on them so that they can communicate with their owners, it's excellent, Mulpepper invented it. But you've got to make them _like _you, or they'll cause havoc. They'll burn your sheets and rip up your important things—no, siree, you won't want an angry pixie on your hands. What d'you say, miss?"

"Wicked!" said Lola, a gleam in her eyes that was making Mrs. Pomfrey uneasy. "I like them much better than the cats. I'll have to ask Pomfrey first, though—oh, there she is! Pomfrey!"

"Dear me," murmured Mrs. Pomfrey. A cat, however expensive, sounded quite good at the moment.

"Pomfrey, can I have a pixie?"

"Of course not," she said primly. "They're dangerous, Lola."

"But they're amazing, look at them! And dead useful," Lola replied, quoting Gladys. "_Please_?"

"Just because you say 'please' doesn't mean you can have one. The answer is _no_—now, how about a knarl? Cute, aren't they—aargh!" Mrs. Pomfrey had held her hand out to one of the hedgehog-like creatures, only to receive a bite on her finger promptly. Lola sniggered. "Well, maybe not a knarl. Let's have a look at those puffskeins."

"But I don't _want _a puffskein. I want a pixie."

Mrs. Pomfrey did not think Lola with a pixie was a good idea. There would probably be many Memory Charms to be performed on Doris, and she thought of all the complaining letters she would receive from the school...what would Madam Zeller think of her, the girl she was taking care of landing more people in the hospital wing in the first week than Quidditch did in the course of the year? The disdainful looks she would get!

"No."

"But, _Pomfrey_..."

Ten minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium with a small silver cage housing one of the black pixies.

"I don't know what to name him," Lola said absentmindedly, sticking her finger through the bars of the cage so that the pixie could latch onto it. "It'll have to be an original name, not an annoying one. I can't stand those people who name their pets Fluffy or Snowy, it's preposterous, don't you think so, Pomfrey?"

"Mm," said Mrs. Pomfrey, her brain reeling as she tried to figure out how Lola had convinced her to buy a _pixie_, of all things.

"Can we stop by Flourish and Blotts again? I want to have a look in that Shakespeare book, maybe I'll find some names in there."  
"No, we can't, we've got to get back home, I promised Ackerley I'd Floo him at four."

"Pity. What do you think of Hamlet?" Mrs. Pomfrey said nothing, but the pixie nodded his head frantically. "Hamlet it is, then."

"Come on, love, we've reached the approved Apparating point. Take my hand." Lola did so, keeping a firm hold on Hamlet's cage. She felt the uncomfortable sensation of being pushed down a very narrow tube, and then they were back at the St. Albans cottage.

"When do I go to Hogwarts, Pomfrey?"

"The first of September."

"That's a long way away," Lola pouted. "What shall I do in the meantime?"

"Study your books," Mrs. Pomfrey said shortly as Stewart Ackerley's head appeared in the emerald flames. Lola rolled her eyes, took out a few books, and tottered down the hall to her bedroom.

"Good to see you, Mrs. Pomfrey," he greeted her.

"And you, Headmaster. Now, Madam Zeller has promptly ignored my request of weekly updates on how things are going in the hospital wing—again. I was hoping that you could give me some answers? How are the preparations going? Have any staff been injured? Is there anything from my personal stores that you would like me to send?"

"No, no, that won't be necessary. Madam Zeller is just preoccupied. The preparations for the school year are going wonderfully, the staff are all well, and the hospital wing is stocked with everything we'll need for the coming year. Actually, that wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about. I understand your—erm—subject—will be starting Hogwarts in the fall?"

"Good Godric, Headmaster, you needn't speak of her in such a cold way. My _subject_?"

"What word would _you _use, then?" asked Ackerley defensively. "You're not related, Mrs. Pomfrey—you're just her caretaker. I don't know why you took her on at all, I was under the impression that you didn't like children."

"Of course I like children," said Mrs. Pomfrey sharply. "I was a school nurse for twenty years, wasn't I?"

"Well—yes—you're right, of course. I was just going to ask if you wanted to come back to Hogwarts and perhaps assist Madam Zeller in the hospital wing—maybe you would want to keep an eye on the girl?"

"No, thank you, Headmaster, I am retired from _that _job permanently. I will be working at Twilfitt and Tattings during the school year. And even if I wasn't, I should hardly be an assistant to a woman with far less medical experience than myself," sniffed Mrs. Pomfrey.

"Of course," said Ackerley respectfully. "It was only an inquiry—yes, Cordelia?"

A flash of dark blond hair came into Mrs. Pomfrey's view, and an unknown figure murmured something into Ackerley's ear.

"I'll be there at once," he said. "Sorry, Mrs. Pomfrey, I'll have to be going. I'll arrange for you to speak with Madam Zeller before school begins."

"Goodbye, Headmaster," murmured Mrs. Pomfrey as Ackerley's head disappeared and the fire extinguished itself. At this moment, Lola chose to re-enter the room, holding a massive book entitled _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. _

"Pomfrey? I don't quite understand the properties of aconite, could you explain them to me?"

"Of course, dear."


	3. The Journey to Hogwarts

The weeks leading up to September 1st were dull and grey. Lola spent her time holed up in her room studying her schoolbooks. She was most interested in Potions and Herbology, much to Mrs. Pomfrey's delight. Several times she considered leaving the cottage and going to visit the Muggle town outside, but that included the possibility of running into Doris, so she never went through with it. When Lola got bored, she would let Hamlet out of his tiny cage and croon to him softly.

"You know," she said to him one day as they lay on her mattress, "I do wish there wasn't a law against showing magic to Muggles. I'd quite like for you to bite Doris's ear off. She's horrid. Can pixies turn invisible?"

Hamlet shook his dark, fragile head.

"Too bad," said Lola regretfully. Then she giggled. "Gee whiz, that would be _funny_! Can you imagine her playing with her stupid dolls, and suddenly she feels this nibbling sensation in her ear, and she turns and there's _nothing there_! What a spectacle that would be!"

Hamlet agreed. A mischievous grin spread across his face, and he pretended to be Doris, flying around the bedroom, squealing, and clutching his ear. Lola let out a shout of laughter.

"Keep that racket down!" called Mrs. Pomfrey from the living room. Lola turned back to her Potions textbook and began explaining the function of a Forgetfulness Potion to Hamlet.

* * *

The fateful day dawned bright and clear. The wind was harsh, and the weather was so crisp outside that Lola had to put a knit green sweater on over her plain shirt and jeans.

"Lola, hurry up and put your trainers on, we'll be late!"

Tardiness, in Mrs. Pomfrey's world, was unacceptable. All necessary precautions of this horrible thing had been taken. Lola's trunk had been packed thoroughly the afternoon before so that they could get an early night—that way, they wouldn't be running around looking for her toothbrush in the morning, not to mention sleepiness wouldn't hinder them. All of her clothes were laid out on the spotless vanity, not the floor, so that she wouldn't waste time brushing dirt and dust off of herself after she put them on (not that there was any of _that _in the cottage).

"No, we won't," Lola replied as she wheeled her trunk outside, Hamlet perched on her shoulder. "It's ten-thirty. We've got loads of time."

Mrs. Pomfrey eyed the pixie apprehensively. "His cage is in your trunk?" she asked.

"Yes, but I'll put him here once I get on the train," said Lola, pointing out a concealed breast pocket in the sweater that Mrs. Pomfrey hadn't noticed before.

"Very well. Ready to go?"

Lola nodded, took her caretaker's hand, and clasped her free fingers around her trunk handle. There was a _crack_, and they disappeared into thin air, emerging in King's Cross Station.

"Now, to get on the platform, you—"

"—run straight through the barrier between platforms nine and ten," Lola finished. "I know, Pomfrey. I read it in _Hogwarts, a History._"

"Of course you did," said Mrs. Pomfrey approvingly. "Good girl. Off you go, I'll meet you there, all right? No, no, I'll take the trunk, I've done this before."

Lola flushed at this notion of being inferior, and walked away briskly, vanishing into the brick wall. A boy with untidy black hair blinked disbelievingly at the barrier, then shook his head.

"James!" called the boy. "James, look, that girl just ran into the barrier and _disappeared_!"

Another boy, who looked to be the first one's sibling, rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Al, that's how you get onto the platform—do you _see _a platform nine-and-three-quarters around here?"

"No," the boy named Al said embarrassedly. "Where did Mum and Dad go? And Lily, where's she?"

"Lily dropped her yo-yo somewhere between the car and here," James began. Mrs. Pomfrey stopped eavesdropping and wheeled the trunk into the barrier.

"_Finally,_" said Lola by way of greeting. "What took you so long?"

"Manners," Mrs. Pomfrey reprimanded, handing Lola her trunk.

"'Manners,'" mimicked Hamlet. Lola giggled and affectionately stroked the pixie's wings. Mrs. Pomfrey made a small _tch_-ing noise in her throat.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly. "There's the whistle. You'd better board. Remember, try not to get hurt too much—"

"I _know_—"

"—and don't pick fights—"

"—you've told me this before—"

"—and don't forget to write!"

Lola had no protest to this. She tilted her golden head confusedly. "Write? You want me to write you?"

"Of course I want you to write me. Now, get on the train-you won't be doing _any _writing if you miss it!"

Lola nodded, gave Mrs. Pomfrey a brief hug, and hopped on the train, handing her trunk to the conductor as she did so. It took her a while to find a compartment that wasn't full up, as most of the students had already boarded, but she finally discovered one that was mostly empty, except for a group of children about her age. Lola had not had good experiences with socialising—her _only _experience, in fact, was with her next-door neighbour, a rather unpleasant sort of girl named Doris who was far too immature and always wanted to play with dolls, an activity that was completely foreign to Lola. She decided to avoid interacting with the other students (they were most likely rude, uncouth beings anyway), and took out a book to bury her nose in. This particular book was _Hogwarts, a History_, and although it was by no means her favourite book, Mrs. Pomfrey had forced her to buy it on their trip to Diagon Alley 'just in case.' She had ended up somewhat liking the book and the wonderful things it told her about her new school—and it was probably better than talking to the strangers in her compartment. One of said strangers, however, seemed to find Lola's reading an unspeakable action, and so made it their first priority to stop her from doing it.

"Oh, hello," said the stranger, a gangly, freckled girl with a mass of orange hair. She looked somewhat familiar. "I didn't see you there."

"Yes, well," Lola muttered, trying to make it very clear that she wasn't interested. "I'm here."

"What's your name?"

"Lola."

"Oooh, that's a gorgeous name." The girl waited for a 'thank you,' but she didn't receive it, so she just plowed on. "What's that book you're reading?"

"_Hogwarts, a History._"

"Is it really?"

"You act like that's the best thing since self-inking quills," Lola said coldly, but the girl either didn't hear her or chose to act as though she hadn't.

"I just love _Hogwarts, a History_! My mum has a first edition copy. The librarian at the London Wizarding Library just loves her, so he gave it to her for _free. _For _free_! Can you believe it?"

Lola said that she could. The girl frowned.

"Well, _I _can't. Say, do you like Fudge Flies?"

"Sorry?" Lola asked, startled by the sudden change of subject.

"I said, do you like Fudge Flies? They're my favourite candy."

"Are they, now?" Lola said under her breath.

"Would you like one?"

"No, thank you."

"You should really have one, you know. I don't give them out to just anyone."

"I'm flattered."

"My name's—"

But Lola didn't find out what the girl's name was, because suddenly, a pale, thin boy with silvery hair fell through the open compartment door—right onto the girl's lap.

"Oof!" said the boy. "I'm so sorry, Zabini pushed me...are you hurt?"

"You git!" she yelled.

"I—it was an accident—"

"You ruined my Fudge Flies!"

"Wha—"

"Well, come on, you better hope the trolley witch is going around, because you're buying me some new ones." She sent him a frightening glare. "Unless you'd rather be on the receiving end of my Bat-Bogey Hex."

"Of c-c-course I'll buy y-you some new ones!" the boy stuttered. "Common courtesy—let's go, shall we?"

"Yes, let's," she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the compartment with surprising force.

"Poor bloke," said one of the children by the window, a boy with untidy black hair and glasses. Lola noticed that his eyes were a vivid shade of green. "_Nobody _ruins Rose's Fudge Flies."

"What audacity!" said a dark-skinned girl, shaking her head so that black corkscrew curls flew everywhere. "I wonder if he'll get out alive."

"Her parents would go bonkers if she killed someone," said another girl. "Wouldn't they?"

"Too right they would!" said the dark-skinned girl. "You're funny, Agatha."

"Why, thank you."

"Why haven't I met you before?" demanded the boy. "Rose and I have met lots of people. Where are you from?"

"Sheffield," said Agatha, flashing them a toothy smile. "I'm Muggle-born."

"That's excellent. Our aunt is Muggle-born," said the girl.

"Oh, are you siblings?"

_They don't look it, _thought Lola.

"No, cousins," said the boy. "We have lots of cousins. Rose is our cousin, too."

"What's that?" asked the girl Lola had been talking to, returning to the compartment holding two deluxe boxes of Fudge Flies and the pale boy's bony hand. "I heard my name."

_She must be Rose, _Lola gathered.

"Oh, we were just telling Agatha about our cousins and your name came up. Say," said the girl, her eyes landing on the boy whose hand Rose was holding, "that isn't—"

"If you were going to say Scorpius Malfoy, then yes, it is," said Rose happily. "Dad told me not to get too friendly with him, but I don't see why, he's very nice." She plucked a Fudge Fly out of the first box and began munching on it. "Scorp, this is Albus, Roxy, and Agatha. Oh, and that's Lola."

Lola stuck her face in _Hogwarts, a History _and tried to pretend that she had heard nothing. The green-eyed boy's name was echoing in her mind, as if it were a Muggle tape set to loop. _Albus. Albus. Albus. _It simply rolled off the tongue. _Aaaallbuuuss. _It was eccentric and old-fashioned, but also original, and a good name in essentials.

"Nice to meet you," said Scorpius quietly.

Lola peered over her book to get a better look at him. His eyes were a harsh grey colour, but they didn't look angry—in fact, they looked rather shy and pensive. When he blushed, he didn't turn tomato red, like Rose and Albus, but a pink tinge rose to his snow-white cheeks. He looked like the cherubic angels Mrs. Pomfrey always hung on the tree at Christmastime.

"What do you think of him, Ham?" Lola murmured to Hamlet, who was hiding between the pages of the book. "He doesn't look very talkative."

Hamlet made a face. "Ugly," he said disgustedly.

"Oh, no," Lola whispered. "He's really not, you just haven't got a good look at him."

The pixie fanned himself and swooned, teasing her. Lola pinched his wing lightly.

"Don't! He has a nice way about him, I think. Not as rash as the others."

"But that name," whined Hamlet.

"Scorpius? Yes, it's a bit unfortunate, and his last name's just dreadful. _Malfoy._"

"Sounds like 'malformation.'"

Lola laughed, startling the other people in the compartment. "You're right."

"Is that a _pixie_?" exclaimed the nosy Rose.

"Galloping Gargoyles!" said Roxy.

"Time to disappear," Lola said to Hamlet under her breath. He nodded and zoomed out of the compartment.

"Oh, no!" said Rose. "It's escaping!"

Lola went back to her book, an amused smirk on her face.

"Aren't you going to go after it?" demanded Roxy.

"No," said Lola coolly, "he'll come back when he pleases."

"Wow," said Rose. "I could _never _do that. If I had a pixie, I'd keep it properly locked up—I'd be so afraid it was going to run away, see."

Lola decided not to mention that Rose's pixie would probably hate her forever if she did that, and flipped to the chapter on the Great Hall.

The hours drifted by, and before Lola knew it, Albus, who had been gallivanting in the corridor with his older cousins, entered the compartment and pulled a black bundle out of the luggage rack.

"What's that?" Lola asked curiously.

"Robes," Albus replied. "We'll be arriving soon."

Shocked, Lola went to the front of the train, where her trunk was stored with some others, and grabbed her own robes. She changed quickly, tucked _Hogwarts, a History _into her trunk, and went back into the compartment to await arrival.

As the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Hamlet floated back and perched on her finger.

"Where've you been?" Lola inquired.

"Tormenting." He said this very cheerfully.

"Oh, Hamlet, you mustn't. I'll be in terrible trouble if Pomfrey ever finds out, and then you'll have to be in a cage all the time...you wouldn't like that, would you?"

Hamlet shook his head and made a face.

"Well, we're here now, I suppose we'd better get off." At that point, Rose and Scorpius came back into the compartment, as they had apparently forgotten something. Lola bolted from the train.

"Firs' years!" A huge man with a silver beard that made him look like a scruffy Father Christmas was standing near the train exit, holding a lantern. "Firs' years...over 'ere..."

"Quick," Lola told Hamlet, "fly up my sleeve so that the rest of these bumbling idiots can't see you."

Once the giant had gathered all of the first years, they began walking down a narrow path that quickly led to a dark lake. The only thing they could see was a lot of rowboats, as there was no moon that night.

"'S a shame," said the giant, "usually yeh get a beau'iful view o' the castle, but not tonigh'."

The curly-haired girl in front of Lola groaned. "Dad said the view was really excellent," said the girl to nobody in particular.

"Get in, all of yeh—only four to a boat!"

The first years jostled each other violently as everyone tried to get a boat with their friends. Lola looked around for a free boat, and her eyes met Albus's emerald green ones. He was the only other one who didn't have a boat. He blushed and quickly looked away to send a betrayed look towards Rose, Roxy, and Agatha, who had chosen Scorpius Malfoy to sit with them instead.

"Eh," said the giant, "you two just go in tha' extra one, there yeh go."

"Oi, Potter!" yelled a sandy-haired boy. "Nice catch!"

Albus flushed. "Shut up, Finnigan," he muttered as they made their way towards the last rowboat. Lola looked him over interestedly. So this boy, this mysterious _Albus _with his bright green eyes, was a Potter? Mrs. Pomfrey had told her about the Potters—that they were very famous because their dad had saved the Wizarding World from Dark wizards once upon time, but liked to keep to themselves.

Albus didn't look at Lola for the rest of the boat ride, and only spoke to her to ask how long she thought it would be until they got to the school.

"About five minutes, I think," Lola replied.

Finally, the uncomfortable silence was broken by a cheer coming from Rose, Roxy, Agatha, and Scorpius's boat, which was echoed by the rest of the first years. They had caught sight of a great oak door illuminated by two torches on either side.

"I'm so nervous!" wailed the curly-haired girl, and suddenly the rowboats were filled with chattering.

"I'm ever so excited for the Sorting," said one of the girls in the boat next to Lola's. "My mum says I've got to be in Hufflepuff, but I think Slytherin sounds cool, don't you?"

"Me mam wants me to be in Ravenclaw, like her," said the sandy-haired boy who Albus had called 'Finnigan.'

"I'm going to be in Gryffindor!" said his friend, holding up an invisible sword. "Where dwell the brave at heart."

The girl who had to be in Hufflepuff sniggered, and the boy opened his mouth to retort. However, at this point, the giant raised his great, gorilla-like arms, which silenced the first years instantly.

"So...righ'...get outta them boats, an' we'll just wait fer the professor..."

They began to talk animatedly again as they headed up the stone steps. The giant knocked three times on the door, but Lola seemed to be the only one who noticed this.

"So, what house do you think you'll be in?" asked Albus.

"I don't know," Lola replied truthfully. "My caretaker was in Ravenclaw, but—"

"_Caretaker_?" the obnoxious Finnigan interrupted. "Don't you have a mam?"

She flushed, but ignored him.

"Or a dad?" he continued.

Lola's head was suddenly filled with images of her father staring blankly at the wall. They all could have been the same vision, except for the fact that he wore different hospital robes in each one. Lola blinked back tears. "Stop it," she told Finnigan, her eyes on her trainers.

"Ah, did I touch a nerve? You—"

"I said _stop it_!" Lola said fiercely, finally meeting the other boy's bright blue eyes that were quite similar to hers. "Now close your mouth before I close it _for _you."

A murmur went up through the crowd, and she realised that the entire first year was listening in on their conversation.

"Is that a _threat_?" said Finnigan. "'Cause I don't—"

"_Silencio._" Lola flicked her wand. Finnigan's mouth kept moving, but it made no sound. She had to stifle a snigger—he looked like a very surprised goldfish.

The first years burst into conversation, not bothering to keep their voices down. Lola heard the curly-haired girl say "That's a O.W.L. level charm, that is!" and smiled to herself. Mrs. Pomfrey had spent two days teaching her the Silencing Charm.

"_Hem, hem._" The sound of somebody loudly clearing their throat attracted the children's attention. They looked towards the great oak door, and to their shock, they saw that it had opened. A smiling woman with dark blond hair was standing there.

"Hello, first years," said the woman in a pleasant voice. "I am Professor Banks. In a few moments you will be taken into the Great Hall to be Sorted into your Houses." The first years began whispering among themselves again, and Professor Banks's smile vanished. "The sooner you stop talking, the sooner you can be Sorted."

They were silent. She smiled again, as if nothing had happened.

"Thank you. As I was saying, while you are at Hogwarts, your House will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points—any rule-breaking will lose you points..." Lola successfully tuned Professor Banks out. She had already heard the House lecture from Mrs. Pomfrey several times.

"Oi!" Albus tapped her on the shoulder, and Lola realised that the other students were making their way into the Great Hall with Professor Banks. She and Albus hurried to catch up with them.

Lola was extremely intimidated. There were four large tables, and one High Table at the back of the Hall. There were hundreds of students, and all of their eyes were on the approaching first years. Lola tried not to panic, and focused on Professor Banks, who was pointing her wand at her throat.

"_Sonorus._" The entire hall turned silent. "When I call your name, you will come up to be Sorted."

_Yes, but _how_? _thought Lola. She hoped she wouldn't have to Transfigure anything.

"Abercrombie, Maisie!"

A tiny girl who looked much younger than eleven ran up to a stool that had materialised in front of Professor Banks. The professor withdrew a large, tatty hat and placed it on Maisie's head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" screamed the hat. Maisie left to sit by the table closest to the door.

"That really is extraordinary magic," commented Roxy.

"Mum told me it was charmed by Godric Gryffindor himself," said Rose excitedly.

"Belby, Samson!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Broadmoor, Roderick" and "Brookstanton, Kalene" were both in Ravenclaw, but "Brookstanton, Keaton" became the first Slytherin.

"Burrow, Juliet!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Lots of Hufflepuffs," remarked the curly-haired girl.

_When are they going to start calling the C's? _thought Lola frantically, her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's wings.

"Carmichael, Edmund!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

_Finally. _She had to be after that.

"Cauldwell, Regina!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

_Really?_

_At least I'll be after _her.

"Chittock, Nigel!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

_I swear to Merlin, if I'm not called soon... _Lola thought, gritting her teeth.

"Cotton, Agatha!"

Agatha dragged her feet up to the stool and pushed a lock of light brown hair out of her eyes before allowing the Sorting Hat to be placed on her head. The Hat took a long time to decide on her, but it finally shouted out: "SLYTHERIN!" Lola was so preoccupied with wondering when they would call her that she didn't notice which table Agatha went off to. Rose and Roxy looked very displeased.

"Creevey, Lola!"

"About time," Lola said quietly. A few people at the table closest to her heard and laughed to themselves. She took the Hat from Professor Banks and jammed it eagerly on her head.

"_Hello, Miss Creevey._"

_Bloody hell! _Lola thought. _You can _talk?

"_Yes_," said the Hat amusedly, "_I can. Now, where would you like to be placed?_"

_You mean I get to choose?_

"_In a way._"

_Well, I don't care too much. Just as long as it's not Gryffindor, because Mrs. Pomfrey says they're all brawn and no brains. And not Hufflepuff either, because they're supposed to be very friendly, and I'm not a very sociable person, Mr. Hat._

"_My, my, we _are _picky!_"

_That's very rude of you._

"_I apologise._"

_Good. I accept._

"_Ah, I know exactly where to put _you."

_What? Where? You should really tell me before you shout it out, you know, it's only polite—_

"SLYTHERIN!"

_That's not so bad_, Lola thought as she handed the Hat back to Professor Banks. _I was counting on Ravenclaw, but...Slytherin's good, too._

Suddenly, she realised that she didn't know where the Slytherin table was. She desperately scanned the badges of the students, hoping for a flash of green and silver—

"Is something wrong, Miss Creevey?"

Lola blushed. "Finnigan, Patrick," the boy who had taunted her, was sitting on the stool and giving her a very odd look.

"I—erm—where's the Slytherin table?"

People were starting to laugh. Patrick Finnigan looked as though he was trying very hard not to. Professor Banks, however, only pointed towards the table farthest from the door. Lola nodded and walked there as quickly as possible, plopping herself down next to Agatha Cotton.

"Merlin's hairy blue—"

Agatha gave her a look.

"—beard," Lola finished. "That was _embarrassing_."

"Yes, it was," said Agatha promptly. Lola noticed that she kept glancing over at Rose and Roxy.

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

The Great Hall quieted as the angelic boy Rose had befriended on the train walked up to the stool.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shrieked the Hat immediately. Scorpius looked stunned, but sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Moon, Bianca!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Mulpepper, Suzanne!"

The curly-haired girl who had been talking to herself ran up. The Hat had barely touched her head when it shouted out: "SLYTHERIN!"

She walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down across from Lola and Agatha.

"Holy Agrippa, I never thought I'd end up _here_," said Suzanne Mulpepper. "My whole family said I was going to be in Ravenclaw. They're going to get a shock—or maybe I could just avoid telling them..."

"Potter, Albus!"

Lola tuned Suzanne out and focused her attention on Albus. The hat flopped down over his eyes, and took almost a full two minutes before proclaiming him a Gryffindor. As Albus went to sit with Scorpius and the rest of his cousins, his green eyes skimmed over the Great Hall, finally landing on Lola. She shrugged and gave him the thumbs up.

There weren't many first years left now to be Sorted: Pritchard...Proudfoot...Ruczinski...Toothill...

"Weasley, Rose!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Weasley, Roxanne!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Agatha looked still more miserable at this.

"Zeller, Verity!"

Lola looked up. She had heard that name before..._Zeller_...of course! That was the name of the nurse who had taken over when Mrs. Pomfrey retired!

"SLYTHERIN!"

Verity Zeller skipped over to the Slytherin table, her blond curls bouncing as if they had been levitated.

Professor Banks rolled up the scroll as "Zeller, Yvonne" was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Is that your sister?" Suzanne asked, looking over at the cheerful girl across the Hall who bore a striking resemblance to Verity.

"Nah, she's my cousin," Verity replied.

_Everyone has cousins, _Lola noted. _I need a cousin. I wonder if you can hire a cousin. _She looked over at Suzanne, who was brushing lint off of the Slytherin badge that had appeared on her robes. Suzanne, however talkative and bothersome, seemed to be a good candidate. Lola added _ask Suzanne if she wants to be my cousin _to her unspoken to-do list.

"Hello, everyone, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" said a short, stocky man with a cheerful manner and a very large moustache. Lola assumed that this was the Headmaster Ackerley Mrs. Pomfrey so often spoke of. "Before we begin our feast, I need to give you a few start-of-term notices. Mr. Goyle has asked me to remind you that the forest on the grounds is strictly out-of-bounds. Fanged Frisbees are not to be used in the corridors. I think that's it? Yes. Let the feast begin!"

Lola smirked as she looked over at Mr. Goyle, a pudgy, hairy man who Mrs. Pomfrey had told her was the caretaker of Hogwarts. The previous caretaker, Mr. Filch, had retired after the Second Wizarding War. Mr. Goyle was prosecuted for being a Death Eater, but he was let off on the condition that he be the Hogwarts caretaker, a job Mrs. Pomfrey had told her he didn't enjoy.

Lola quickly forgot about Mr. Goyle, however, as the golden plates in front of them had suddenly filled up with food. The last thing she had eaten was the toast she had crammed in her mouth before departing for King's Cross, and she found that she was starving.

"You're Agatha, aren't you?" she asked Agatha after swallowing her bite of mashed potatoes.

'Yes, I am," muttered Agatha. "I hate my name. It's a granny name. I was named after my grandmother."

"Well, it's not as bad as _mine_," said Lola matter-of-factly. "My parents named me after a song about a transvestite."

Agatha and Verity laughed, but Suzanne looked shocked and exclaimed "How vulgar!", which caused them to erupt in giggles again.

As the feast continued, Lola got to know the other Slytherin girls and decided that she liked talking to them. After all, they didn't seem to have anything in common with the despicable Doris. None of them had spoken of dolls or hair ribbons the _entire _time.

After they were all stuffed with all sorts of food, a tall, pretty girl who wore a shiny metal badge stood up and instructed the first years to follow her.

"Why should we?" Lola whispered to Verity.

"She's a prefect," Verity explained. "She's showing us the way to the common room."

"That's nice of her."

"I know. Prefects are supposed to be quite nice, according to Mum."

"Oh, don't be so hasty to say that," Suzanne said as they followed the prefect down torchlit corridors. "My sister Carin says that prefects are really thick, they dock points when they're in foul moods."

"Was your sister Carin a prefect?" asked Agatha.

"No..."

"Well, there you go," said Verity. "She was jealous."

Suzanne's ears turned pink and she did not speak to Agatha or Verity until they reached the common room. The Slytherin common room was in the dungeons, but it was more comfortable than it sounded. Everything (including the walls) was covered in furry green carpet. There was a big bulletin board, a fireplace and several grey armchairs, and on either side of the fireplace was a staircase. On the left, there was a grey sign that said 'boys,' and on the right, there was a green sign that said 'girls.'

"Welcome, first years," said the prefect with a warm smile. "My name is Gianni d'Eath, and I'll be one of your prefects this year. You can come to any of us if you need—er—counseling. There is a list of the other prefects on the notice board over there, where you'll find important information, but the board isn't _too _important for you this year. As you get older, you'll need to check it regularly for things like the scheduling of Quidditch tryouts and Hogsmeade weekends. Well, I think that's all. Boys, your dormitory is the first door up the staircase on your left; girls, the same on your right. Now, off to bed, and I don't want to hear that anyone's been staying up past midnight, or I'll have to dock House points."

"Told you so," murmured Suzanne, but Agatha would not hear it.

"Staying up past midnight is a perfectly good reason to dock points," she said in a dignified voice as the four girls piled up the staircase on the right. When they reached the top, they came to a corridor lined with seven doors. Remembering Gianni the Prefect's instructions, they went through the first one. There were four four-posters with deep emerald curtains. A fluffy grey cat was sleeping contentedly on the bed nearest to the window, and Hamlet's cage was on the bedside table accompanying the bed nearest to the door.

"Gregory!" exclaimed Agatha, collapsing on the bed with the cat. Lola and Verity exchanged looks as they claimed beds.

"Say, Suzanne," Lola said after the lights had all been turned out, remembering something, "how would you like to be my cousin?"

Suzanne never got a chance to reply, as Gianni the Prefect burst into the dormitory just then and said that they'd all better get to sleep or she'd have to give them detention.

* * *

_A/N: So, if there is anyone reading this story, how do you like it? I'm only going to do a few chapters for each year at Hogwarts, and maybe one per summer...we'll see. Anyways, thank you for reading and please, please review! _


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